


Builds Our Dreams

by CadetDru



Series: Who Wants To Live Forever [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: There was no other reason Crowley would have for suddenly, urgently cupping Aziraphale's cheek. Crowley couldn't physically restore Aziraphale's smile, couldn't lift his spirits back up. He did it, anyway.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Who Wants To Live Forever [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591672
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Yet Slips Away From Us

They bumped into one another in Rome. Nothing strange about that. They both knew when the other was near, but that didn't have to mean anything. Then Aziraphale invited Crowley to lunch, because Crowley had never had oysters. A temptation, he called it, and Aziraphale couldn't seem to remember that Crowley was a demon.

Who or what did Aziraphale think Crowley was? Demons and Angels felt different, within themselves and without to the trained observer. It's wasn't the primary difference, but quite significantly, one couldn't love. Angels loved everything and everyone that had ever or would ever exist. It shouldn't have been that easy for Aziraphale to confuse the two categories of supernatural being. 

Crowley did not love in the angelic way. He should not have been able to love in any other way, but maybe there was a difference between Love and love. Aziraphale could sense love. He might not be able to differentiate between angelic love for all existence and one being's love for one specific angel. 

"What do you think?" Aziraphale asked, smiling across the half-finished food that separated them.

"Not sure if it was worth your journey, angel," Crowley said. "All the way to Rome, just for this?"

Aziraphale's face started a slow crumble.

"Still, very good," Crowley said, trying to restore the smile. If he had a heart, it would be breaking. He didn't want to disappoint Aziraphale. Aziraphale was the one person, the one angel, the one anything that Crowley cared about almost as much as himself. He just wanted the angel to be happy.

He hadn't known any of that. Aziraphale seemed to give him such painfully unwelcome knowledge when they interacted. The angel had always been the most dangerous thing in the Garden, before they all got expelled. 

Crowley reached over to Aziraphale, brushing the angel's face with his fingertips. They would both think that it was because Aziraphale had a crumb, a morsel, a speck on his cheek somehow. Crowley was helping him maintain his spotless appearance. There was no other reason Crowley would have for suddenly, urgently cupping Aziraphale's cheek. Crowley couldn't physically restore Aziraphale's smile, couldn't lift his spirits back up. He did it, anyway. He only let his hand linger for a moment before taking to away. He mumbled vague words to excuse himself.

"It's all the better for the company," Aziraphale said. His smile was firmly back in place.

"Trying to distract me from my evil works?" Crowley said, keeping his words to himself. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "I suppose I should be." 

"It's working, whether you intended it to or not," Crowley said. "Your natural talents showing themselves again."

"Then there should be no harm in my taking credit for it," Aziraphale said, sitting a little straighter. "You're very kind," he added.

The hiss that came forth had no human language within its sound. It was pure warning. Crowley was no pet snake. "Don't call me that." He wanted to ask why Aziraphale had to ruin a perfectly nice lunch. 

Aziraphale made huffy little sounds of "well, really" and other senseless protests. "Being kind isn't necessarily being good," he said. "You're as Evil as you're supposed to be. I think. You wouldn't let me try the apple, I'm just going off what I sense of humanity, no one will let me know these things for certain and you know how questions aren't answered. It's, just, well. You're both, somehow. You're not completely... you're kind. Sometimes."

"You're not paying attention, then."

"I always pay attention to you. You're different." Aziraphale's eyes sparkled as he said it, more of the angelic love that Crowley wasn't supposed to experience. 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale from behind his spectacles. "I have to go," he said finally.

"Duty calls," Aziraphale said. The sparkle was gone. 

"You're..." Crowley started. You're welcome to stop me, he didn't say. You're wrong about me, he didn't say. You're the only thing I've loved since I've fallen and I can't be anywhere near you until it passes, he didn't say. "Right. You're right. Duty."


	2. What Is This Thing?

Rome was no place for a lovesick demon. There was no place for a lovesick demon. Crowley had accomplished his minor task, spread a little more evil amongst the humans. He could go back to wallowing. To wishing he was someone else, someone less kind than his angel claimed. Not that he was kind at all. Not that Aziraphale was his, Crowley's, angel. Not that any of it mattered.

He could drink more, but he might just so happen to run into Aziraphale again. You couldn't do anything with the kind of fool who would give away his sword to the first pregnant woman that he, or the world, met. You couldn't touch him. They wouldn't let you. You couldn't tempt him. He might let you. 

Aziraphale followed Crowley, because someone who loved everyone equally didn't know how to gracefully disengage from a lover's quarrel. He didn't have the decency to hide it. He was quite blatantly following Crowley, which was how they ended up alone in a little alley. 

"Am I too late to thwart you?"

"Completely," Crowley said.

"Oh, good."

"Good?" Crowley repeated. It wasn't the reaction that he wanted 

"I was hoping we'd both be off duty now, as it were."

Crowley pushed Aziraphale against the wall, holding him there to stare at the angel from a breath away. "And why is that?"

"We might have a chance without our respective superiors checking up on us."

Crowley could hardly hear Aziraphale over his own tangled internal monologue. 

"We are friends, aren't we?" Aziraphale said.

"We can't be."

"I'll forget you said that," Aziraphale said smugly. "You like me. You like being around me."

It was hard to argue the point, the angel still rather unnecessarily pinned between the demon and the side of a building. Crowley leaned in, took a breath, and moved back. "I should have let you eat the damned apple."

"Yes, you should have." Aziraphale came forward, came just as close to Crowley as they had been when the wall had been against them both. "You're different than everyone else." His eyes searched Crowley's face. "What makes you so different?"

The reverence in his voice hurt Crowley. "Style."

Aziraphale frowned. It wasn't the answer that he'd been looking for. "I'll leave you to... whatever it was you were planning on doing now."

"Another time, angel," Crowley said, before going somewhere else, anywhere else, with every demonic miracle that he could summon. 


End file.
